Filet, Anyone?

Yesterday Matthew decided that he wanted to take the blade off of my razor.  Well, the blade wanted to stay on.  The blade won.  Poor Matthew.  I was putting some clothes away in his room when I heard him start screaming.  Honestly, I thought he saw a bug, so I wasn't too concerned.  I just made my way towards him.  And then I saw all of the blood.  Lots and lots of blood.  He had cut his palm, right where the thumb meets it.  Ouchy!  I sat him down on a bench and tried to clean it up and wrapped it up with some gauze.  All the while James is handing Matthew his precious blanket, which he carries everywhere with him.  But then he would want it back, so he would take it and say "thank you!"  Then feeling sorry for his big brother, he would share it with Matthew again.  This repeated for a while.  I decided to take Matthew to the doctor to have his wound looked at.  It was really hard to see it because it would not stop bleeding.  And judging by the amount of skin left on the blade, it was a bad wound.  Oh.My.Goodness.It.Was.A.LOT!!!!!  Anyway, so we left for the doctor.  And the whole time Matthew is saying, "Why did I do that?  Why?"  "I shouldn't have done that."  

When the doctor looked at it, she said it was what they call a filet.  That name just makes me shudder.  The skin was so tore up that there was nothing she could do by way of sutures.  Anyway, she just cleaned it and wrapped it up.  And told me to put super glue on it when it finally stopped bleeding.  After she left the room Matthew said, "I was so so brave, Mom.  You're proud of me."  On our way home, he was excited to take the bandages off, and I told him that he would have to wear until morning.  "Oh no!  But I like to sleep with this hand under my pillow!"  Forget the horrible location of the wound (which I'm sure will cause it to take a long time to fully heal), all the skin and blood lost, he can't sleep with his hand under his pillow!  That's the real travesty here. 

Let's Go Fly a Kite...

Can you guess what our new, favorite pastime is?  A few days ago, we had PERFECT kite-flying wind.   Matthew steps outside many times a day, just to test the wind.

James has yet another cold, and I think he hit his face in his crib. 

He didn't go to bed with that cut, but he woke up with it.  Poor guy.

I Can't Take This Anymore!

Yesterday, while getting out of the car all by himself, Matthew fell. He landed on his hands and knees, scraping his knee a little bit. But he such a big boy that he didn't even cry. When we got home I told him I needed to clean all the germs out of his "owie." He didn't cry again. I was so proud. And then the band aids were put on. For some reason this made walking diificult. After a few moments, Matthew began crying, "I can't take this anymore!" Here are pictures of the offending bandages.